


A Ring for Your Hand

by Inkstained_Dreamer



Series: A Tragedy of Innocence [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Annatar is a shameless flirt, Celebrimbor Makes Bad Life Choices, Eregion, Gil-galad gives good advice (which is promptly disregarded), Gwaith-i-Mírdain, M/M, Ost-in-Edhil, Rings of Power, Sauron can cry on cue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25785046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkstained_Dreamer/pseuds/Inkstained_Dreamer
Summary: When a stranger arrives in Ost-in-Edhil and offers to share his skills and knowledge, Celebrimbor is delighted and welcomes him with open arms.
Relationships: Annatar & Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Ereinion Gil-galad, Círdan | Nowë & Ereinion Gil-galad
Series: A Tragedy of Innocence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870555
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	1. A Stranger in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> On names--I (as the narrator) will refer to Celebrimbor always by that name, but he is often called Tyelpe by other characters. "Tyelpe" is a shortened version of Telperinquar, meaning "silver-fist." 
> 
> On smithcraft--Regrettably, I myself am not an experienced smith (though I have actually made a ring), nor am I very knowledgable about forging techniques or technology (though I did learn some interesting things about medieval methods of forging in the process of writing this) I apologize in advance (especially to all you actual smiths out there) for any blatantly incorrect things in this work.

It was raining the day he came, a drenching, persistent rain that hammered on the rooftops and gushed down past the tall windows of the hall of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. Thunder rumbled distantly, and occasionally a flash of lightning sparkled on the neatly laid out tools and the half-made necklaces, cups, and circlets lying on the worktables. 

Inside the hall however, it was bright and cheerful. Lamps lit the room with a warm glow, artisans moved busily about their work, and students laughed and chatted quietly as they waited their turns for instruction. Hammers clinked on silver and gold, making pleasant little ringing noises, like tiny bells. The long room smelled of beeswax; a comforting and tranquil aroma. 

Celebrimbor moved through the room, the light shimmering on his dark hair, offering guidance to the students, looking with interest at the creations of his peers, and commending his apprentices on their diligent work. He was unable to suppress a glow of pride as he surveyed the hall. The hall he had built, in the city of his creation. It was everything he had dreamed of, so long ago in Nargothrond.

Ost-in-Edhil, the jewel of Eregion. A city full of knowledge, exploration, and joy. A city where learning was not hoarded, but given freely to all who sought it. A city where strangers were welcomed with open arms, not turned away at the gates. Yes, it was everything Celebrimbor had ever hoped for. And everything his father had stood against. He sighed a little at that, looking out at the silvery sheets of rain, but brightened once more when one of his apprentices plucked at his sleeve. 

“Yes?” He said with a smile. 

She gestured behind her. “There is a. . .traveler who wishes to see you, Master Celebrimbor. He arrived here a short while ago, soaked from the rain and all.”

Celebrimbor nodded. Strangers were common at the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. “Ah. I see. Where is he?”

“I left him in your workroom.”

Celebrimbor patted her shoulder. “Thank you. I will go and greet him.”

She gave him a quick smile and hurried off to continue with her work. 

Celebrimbor crossed the wide hall and passed through a polished wooden doorway that led to the studios and workrooms of the senior smiths. He exchanged friendly greetings with his colleagues as he passed, but all were intent on their work, and soon the sounds of his soft footsteps and the drumming of the rain were all that could be heard. Occasionally, the laughter of the apprentices or the merry chink of metal on metal filtered dimly through from the main hall. 

The door to Celebrimbor’s study stood ajar, the light of a lamp shining through the crack. He pushed it open and stepped inside. 

The stranger stood with his back to the door, apparently engrossed in studying a diagram on the wall. He was lithe and tall, taller than Celebrimbor, and was dressed in white and pale grey. His cloak hung heavily from his shoulders, dripping with rainwater. The droplets seemed to sparkle on the polished floor.

Before Celebrimbor could say a word, the graceful figure turned to face him, and Celebrimbor stifled a gasp. His face was beautiful, pale as a statue’s and with an agelessness that seemed unlike that of the elves. Rainwater shimmered on his curling lashes, and his long blond hair was plastered down against his head, but already beginning to dry. A smile hovered about his delicate lips when his eyes lighted on Celebrimbor, still standing at the door. 

But it was his eyes that Celebrimbor had noticed first. They were blue, bluer than the sea Celebrimbor dimly remembered from his childhood, and full of an acute, sparkling awareness, as if the stranger could see into Celebrimbor’s mind, or perhaps his heart. They were the eyes of one who has seen wonders, and come back changed. 

Celebrimbor realized with a jerk that his mouth was hanging open, and, with an effort, tore his eyes away from the stranger’s countenance. He could feel his face burning with embarrassment.

Apparently sensing Celebrimbor’s discomfort, the stranger spoke in a voice as smooth and musical as that of a minstrel. 

“Master Celebrimbor. How honored I am to meet you at last. I have traveled long and far for this privilege.” He had loosely clasped his long-fingered hands at his chest, and now gave a little bow. 

Celebrimbor moved forwards. “I am flattered. We welcome travelers here in Ost-in-Edhil. Tell me, friend, what is your name?”

He smiled faintly. “I am called Annatar, giver of gifts.”

“Ah,” replied Celebrimbor. “And where do you come from?”

Annatar paused for a moment. “From Aman, master smith. As you may have guessed, I am one of the Maiar.”

Celebrimbor’s breath caught. “You come from the Blessed Lands? From the Valar?”

Annatar looked down. “I have long resided here in Middle Earth, for I love it, just as you do. The Valar did not send me here.” He raised his head again, his eyes gleaming. “But I’m sure that the Powers--may their splendor never be dimmed--would approve of my coming.” 

Celebrimbor sagged a little. He had hoped that. . .but no. The Valar had turned from his house forever, he knew that full well. The Fëanorians had long left the possibility of clemency behind. But Annatar was probably right, and it could be a mark of their good favor that he had come to Ost-in-Edhil at all. Yes, it must be so.

Outwardly, Celebrimbor nodded. “It has been long since I saw one from the West. I am gratified that you came to us here in Eregion.”

Annatar smiled. “The gratification is all mine. I have heard so much about the great smiths of this city, and wished to see it for myself. And perhaps. . .I have some knowledge I could share with you. If you want it. I learned something of smithcraft during my time in the Blessed Lands.”

Celebrimbor returned the smile. “You are welcome here, and we would be glad of your teaching.”

There was a pause. Lightning illuminated the room in stark white light for a moment. The rain beat on the windowpanes. 

“But excuse me,” said Celebrimbor. “I am forgetting my manners. You must be weary from the road.”

“It is no matter,” said Annatar in his lilting tone. “I will find someplace to stay. You need not concern yourself, Master Celebrimbor.”

Celebrimbor stepped forward. “Please, stay in my house for the time being. You will be my guest. And, there is no need to call me ‘master.’ If anyone is deserving of that title here, it is you.”

Annatar looked away again, flicking a drop of water from his sleeve. “You are very kind, to offer your hospitality to a stranger, no?”

Celebrimbor shrugged. “Here in Ost-in-Edhil, we choose to trust others, rather than assume the worst of them.”

“Ah,” mused Annatar. “How very lovely. And that was your idea?”

“Yes,” said Celebrimbor, with a small note of pride in his voice. “We can all further peace in Middle Earth with tolerance and goodwill more than with destruction and fear. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh, yes,” murmured Annatar, his tone soft, almost a whisper. “Of course I do. After all, peace in Middle Earth is what we all want, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” replied Celebrimbor, feeling faintly unsettled, though he didn’t know why. “Now, may I bring you to my humble abode? You must wish to dry off and rest.”

Annatar gave a little laugh. “Oh, but I am already dry. Here, feel.” 

He held out the sleeve of his tunic, and upon touching it, Celebrimbor gave a little start of astonishment. The cloth  _ was _ dry, though it had been soaking moments before. 

Annatar smiled at his look of confusion. “My hröa emits heat. Let me show you.”

He reached forwards and touched Celebrimbor’s cheek with his tapered fingers. To Celebrimbor’s surprise, the hand was pleasantly warm, like a lantern left burning through the night. 

They stood like that for a moment, bathed in the glow of the lamp, the one figure, elegant and faintly smiling, touching the delicately flushed face of the other, slighter person leaning on the desk. Celebrimbor was suddenly very aware that his heart was hammering in his throat, and he tightened his grip on the desk as if it was a raft in a stormy sea. Annatar drew back and lowered his hand, a smile still hovering about the corners of his mouth, his lips curving like a cat’s. 

Celebrimbor exhaled. He hadn’t realized that he had been holding his breath. He stood up, gesturing to the door. 

“It’s late. Would you join me for dinner?”

Annatar inclined his head. “It would be my pleasure. It has been so long since. . .”

“Since what?” 

Annatar gave his head a little shake. “Since I was welcomed somewhere so kindly. But no matter. Thank you, Celebrimbor. Lead on.”

The crossed back out of the hall, garnering stares and whispers as they passed. Strangers were common in Ost-in-Edhil, but not strangers who looked like Annatar. He glowed faintly, Celebrimbor saw now, as if light pulsed beneath his pale skin. Then again, perhaps it did. 

The rain was only a light drizzle now, and the clouds had begun to scatter and move apart, revealing the first stars winking to life in the violet sky. Thunder rumbled, distant now. The storm was moving on. 

Celebrimbor stole a glance at his companion. He was looking the other way, apparently intrigued by the colonnades and soaring steps of the hall of the woodworkers’ to their left. Celebrimbor smiled to himself, resisting the urge to jump up and down like a child. A Maia! In Ost-in-Edhil! He could barely believe it. 

Celebrimbor sighed happily. Things we’re going to be  _ wonderful _ , he knew it. 


	2. Introductions

The very next day, Celebrimbor threw himself into showing Annatar Ost-in-Edhil with the tireless enthusiasm that was natural to him. They visited the different halls of the artisans, walked the winding streets, and explored the many gardens all throughout the city. Celebrimbor couldn’t have asked for a more attentive audience; Annatar seemed intrigued by everything he saw. 

_ He must have been wandering for a quite long time, _ Celebrimbor thought to himself.  _ I wonder why he was never welcomed anywhere. After all, he seems so intelligent and gentle and. . .perfect.  _

But try as he might to pry out the details of Annatar’s past, Celebrimbor made no headway on that front. Annatar swiftly changed the subject whenever the conversation veered toward himself, and Celebrimbor decided to let the matter drop. His companion was surely still exhausted, and there would be plenty of time for chatting later. 

Annatar attracted quite a lot of attention. Apprentices whispered and gawked openly as they passed; Celebrimbor’s colleagues merely shot him inquiring glances. Annatar either didn’t notice the ripples that he was creating or didn’t care, and continued talking to Celebrimbor with perfect equanimity even when one student managed to knock over the sculpture he was working on with a resounding crash when Annatar happened to glance his way in passing. Perhaps he was used to the attention that came with his appearance, Celebrimbor thought. 

Celebrimbor had saved the forges for last. They were his favorite place in Ost-in-Edhil, along with the main hall of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. Annatar’s reaction seemed a little lackluster, but Celebrimbor decided that he simply hadn’t fully absorbed the majesty of the building. And after all, he had come from the Blessed Lands, where perhaps their forges were even larger and full of more cunning devices. 

“This is my favorite place, Annatar,” Celebrimbor said as they walked. “I hope you like it too,” he added shyly after a moment. 

Annatar nodded. “I do. I am quite impressed with what you have created here, Celebrimbor. But. . .”

Celebrimbor wrinkled his brows. “But what?”

Annatar shrugged. “Merely that it can be improved.”

Celebrimbor nodded. “I’m sure it can be. I would be glad of your help someday.” He paused, then continued. “What were the forges in Aman like?”

Annatar’s delicate features twisted slightly, almost sneering, but the expression was gone in a second. “Oh, they were rather like this. But I do think I like yours better.” He shot Celebrimbor a quick look. Celebrimbor blushed and turned his eyes away.

“You can’t mean that.”

“Ah, but I do. Don’t be modest, Celebrimbor. You have done truly great things here in Ost-in-Edhil. But tell me, what is that?” Annatar pointed to a spot behind Celebrimbor.

Celebrimbor turned, and then brightened considerably. “Ah! That is one of our newest inventions. Let me show it to you.”

He led the way over to the machine. It consisted of a large, clear tank filled with murky water. A sort of stirrer, operated by a pedal at the base, dipped into the tank. Annatar regarded it curiously. 

Celebrimbor grinned. “Any ideas?”

Annatar tilted his head. “I admit, I am at a loss.”

Celebrimbor gestured to it. “It’s a polishing machine. Look,” he dipped his hand into the water, coming up with a palmful of tiny needles. “These needles buff the metal when the water is disturbed by this--” he tapped the stirrer. “It can be operated by one person or two. See, there are pedals on either side. Would you like to see it in action?”

Annatar nodded, and Celebrimbor selected a particularly scuffed scrap of copper. He dropped it into the water with a soft splash, and placed his foot on the pedal. Gears whirred, and the stirrer began to spin, whipping the water into froth. 

Annatar looked on with interest. Then, to Celebrimbor’s surprise, he stepped forward and set his foot on the other pedal, instantly matching Celebrimbor’s speed. 

Celebrimbor smiled at him, but Annatar seemed completely focused on the task at hand. He sped up slightly, and Celebrimbor instinctively matched him. It was as if they’d always worked together, each knowing the other’s rhythms. When Annatar raised his bright eyes to meet Celebrimbor’s, his lips quirked in a slightly teasing smile, Celebrimbor, to his embarrassment, felt his cheeks burn, and looked away. He stepped off the pedal, Annatar following, and waited a moment until the water was still. Then, he fished out the piece of copper, now buffed and shining, and held it out for Annatar to see.

“Doesn’t it work well? It will save the smiths the trouble of polishing.”

“Mm,” agreed Annatar. “That it would. I wonder, though. . .what would happen if, say, someone’s hand was placed in the tank?”

Celebrimbor grimaced in horror. “Nothing good. It would hurt terribly.”

“Yes,” mused Annatar thoughtfully. “It would be rather awful.”

“Rather?! It’s horrific, Annatar!” 

Annatar shrugged and turned away. 

Celebrimbor’s brows drew together. “You’re right, though, it could happen. I’ll put a sign on the tank. How about ‘no hands in water when in operation’? That’ll keep even the least attentive apprentices safe, won’t it?”

But Annatar didn’t reply. He had become absorbed in some schematics on a nearby table, and was intently bent over them, his long hair hiding his face. Celebrimbor smiled fondly, and the little squeeze of consternation he had felt dissipated. Annatar would never do something like that. He just said odd things, that was it. He was a Maia, after all. He couldn’t be held to Elven standards. 

Celebrimbor busied himself with the sign, humming a snatch of song to himself. Had he looked up, he would have been in for a shock, for a mocking smirk marred Annatar’s beautiful features, and his clear blue eyes were full of derision. 

  
  



	3. Interlude: The Deceiver

_ It shocks me how elves can survive in this world. They are so very emotional, so gullible, so easy to fool. It’s the same game every time, and they never learn, no matter how many ages pass. All it takes is a smiling face and a gentle voice, and they’re entrapped. It’s barely been a week and Celebrimbor is already falling all over  _ **_dear_ ** _ “Annatar.” Ha. I really do  _ **_love_ ** _ innocents. It’s so much  _ **_fun_ ** _ to pull them along and then see the look in their eyes when they realize they’re in far too deep for their pure little hearts. Poor child. I almost pity him. He’s tried so  _ **_very_ ** _ hard to outrun his inheritance. I can understand that. I ran too, but towards knowledge and away from foolish innocence and airy dreams.  _

_ Sweet Tyelpe is in for some interesting surprises, I think. I do enjoy teaching. I’ve already improved half of his primitive machines. He grows more besotted with his dear new friend each day. Ha. He thinks I don’t notice how he blushes and stammers and drops tools around me. But I do. I perceive more than he can even imagine. His heart rate, for example, goes up enormously whenever I touch him. And his body temperature rose almost three degrees yesterday when I “happened” to brush his ear. It was all I could do to keep from laughing outright.  _

_ Elves with their disgusting emotions and their stupid little attachments. It makes me want to shove them into the tank of needles that Celebrimbor is so insufferably proud of. Unfortunately, that is out of the question at the moment. Mustn’t make anyone suspect that perfect Annatar isn’t what he seems. I doubt that any of them would even entertain the notion, though. It’s been child’s play winning over darling Celebrimbor, and the rest of them will follow his lead; herd animals that they are.  _

_ Oh, yes. This is going to be so _ **_very_ ** _ simple. I can hardly wait for the real fun to begin.  _

  
  



	4. A Question of Trust

Several weeks after Annatar’s arrival, Celebrimbor stepped into his study one day to find a letter lying on his desk. Picking it up, Celebrimbor gave a happy little squeak, for the wafer was blue and emblazoned with a star--the symbol of Gil-galad. 

It had been quite some time since Celebrimbor had heard from his friend; after all, Gil-galad was busy in Lindon, and Celebrimbor had been taken up with building and maintaining Ost-in-Edhil. However, they loved each other dearly despite the leagues between them, for theirs was a friendship stronger than the beaten steel in Celebrimbor’s forges. 

Gently tearing open the letter, Celebrimbor unfolded the sheet (covered in Gil-galad’s neat, precise hand) and began to read. 

_ My dear Tyelpe, _

_ I hope you are well, and that all is as it should be in Ost-in-Edhil. It has been too long since we spoke, and I have missed you very much. You must come visit me in Lindon soon, for I think you would like it excessively. There is much I could tell you, but unfortunately, I am not writing just to share pleasantries. I must warn you, for I fear that danger is coming to your fair city.  _

_ There is a stranger, a Maia, who calls himself Annatar, the gift-giver. If he should seek entry to Ost-in-Edhil, turn him away, for he is not what he seems. He attempted to wriggle his way into Lindon, but Círdan and I barred the gates against him. We have not yet deduced who or what he truly is, but on no account should you place your trust in him or let him enter your halls. He is very cunning, we fear, and could wreak havoc in Eregion. I would not have you harmed by his artifices. _

_ Tyelpe, I know that this must seem strange, but I entreat you:  _ **_do not trust Annatar._ ** _ Círdan is wise, and I trust his counsel on this matter. He suspects that Annatar may be a servant of Morgoth, enemy of us all. I could not bear it if you were caught up in his twisted webs. Please, my dearest friend, heed this and send Annatar away if he should come to you. If he is already in your city, I only hope that you can cast him out before it is too late.  _

_ I am sorry for the solemn tone of this, but I do not have time to write more. Come see me in Lindon, and we will laugh together, and speak of all that has passed since we last spoke. _

_ Yours in friendship, as always,  _

_ Gil  _

The paper fluttered out of Celebrimbor’s hands and came to rest with a tiny rustle on the polished desk. Celebrimbor stared down at it, as if he had never seen it before. His face was pale.

Annatar? A servant of  _ Morgoth _ ? It could not be. He was so wise and good and beautiful! He had helped with so many things even in the short time that he had been with Celebrimbor! He was from the Blessed Lands, had known the Valar, wandered Middle Earth because he loved it so!

But Gil-galad had sounded so dire, and that was not his way. Celebrimbor trusted and loved his friend. Was he willing to pit his council against his newest colleague and companion? Surely Círdan could have been wrong. They were all paranoid, after all, from the long years of war, and suspicion cropped up in the most unlikely places.

Celebrimbor sat down on his desk and lowered his head into his hands. Why? Why did this have to happen? Everything in the past few weeks had been so perfect, and now there was this. He didn’t  _ want _ to doubt Annatar, or send him away! He couldn’t! But Gil was so often right. . .Celebrimbor felt his eyes beginning to prickle. He did not want to choose between his friends.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and gave a start, twisting around to see who had come in so silently, and was met with Annatar’s brilliant blue gaze. 

Celebrimbor tried to smile. “Oh, er, Annatar! Good morning!”

Annatar tilted his head, his face unreadable as usual. “Hello, Tyelpe,” he said in his usual soft tones. “Pardon me for intruding, but. . .is something the matter? You seem troubled.”

He walked around the desk until he was facing Celebrimbor, eyebrows raised, a perfect tableau of friendly concern. Celebrimbor looked away, back at the letter sitting innocuously on his desk.

“It’s nothing. Really.”

Annatar followed Celebrimbor’s gaze. “I am sure it is not nothing if it worries you so. Come, tell me.”

Celebrimbor twisted his hands together in his lap. “I. . .I. . .look, it’s not important.”

Annatar perched himself beside Celebrimbor, close enough that Celebrimbor could feel the heat of his skin. “Is it about me?”

Celebrimbor looked away. “I don’t wish to offend you. . .”

Annatar sighed morosely. “You won’t. I promise. Let me guess--did your friends in Lindon warn you not to trust me?”

Celebrimbor looked away again, and said nothing. Annatar let out another melancholy sigh.

“Tyelpe, I understand if you want me to leave. And I will leave if you wish me to. It’s just. . .”

Celebrimbor glanced at him. Annatar’s eyes were full of sorrow. His posture was slumped, but he continued.

“It’s just that I had so hoped to befriend Gil-galad and Círdan. I admire their deeds, and I have always wanted to see Lindon. It is perhaps my deepest regret that I did not make a good impression when I traveled there. I realized too late that I had been wandering far too long, and had become unfamiliar with the ways of elves. I’m afraid that I seemed. . .untrustworthy to them. And now. . .now there is no way to fix my mistake.” He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for a painful plunge. “But it’s all right. I will go tomorrow. Thank you for being so kind to me, Tyelpe.”

To Celebrimbor’s horror, Annatar gulped and stifled a sob as he rose from the desk. His eyes sparkled with tears. 

_ Gil-galad just made a mistake _ , Celebrimbor thought.  _ He didn’t understand Annatar’s ways. Poor Annatar. He has no home, and all he wanted was to see Lindon. I’ll write to Gil and explain it all. _

Before Annatar could reach the door, Celebrimbor put a hand on his arm.

“Please don’t go, Annatar. I’m sure that Gil-galad would understand everything if I write to him.”

Annatar sniffled and swiped at his eyes. One gleaming tear slid down his cheek. “No. It’s no use. He despises me, I’m sure of it. Don’t ruin your friendship on my account, dear Tyelpe. I’ll just leave, and trouble you no longer.”

Celebrimbor shook his head firmly. “No. Gil-galad was just being paranoid. He’s a soldier, really, and sometimes he forgets that he’s not in battle anymore. I’ll write to him and tell him how you feel now. He’ll recognize that you were just unaccustomed to socializing.”

Annatar turned towards Celebrimbor, his face aglow with hope. “You think you can do that? I so hate to think that one who I esteem so highly dislikes me; truly, I’d do anything, anything in the world, to make things right.”

Celebrimbor smiled. “He’ll come round. I’m sure of it.” 

A little shyly, he added, “And you won’t have to go back to wandering ever again. You have a home here, Annatar.”

Annatar clasped his elegant hands at his chest. “Tyelpe. . .I. . .I don’t know what to say. You are so kind. I was so afraid that you would revile me, as so very many have in the past. And I do not think I could bear it from you.”

Impetuously, Celebrimbor stepped forwards and put his arms about Annatar’s shoulders. 

“Annatar, you are my teacher, my colleague, my friend. I would _ never _ , I  _ could _ never hate you. I am so glad that you came to me.”

He could hear the smile in Annatar’s voice when he spoke, his voice almost a whisper “And I am honored to stand beside one so skilled and loving.”

A tiny puff of air blew in through the half-open doorway, ruffling Annatar’s loose hair and lifting the letter off the desk. It swirled to the floor and came to rest without a sound. 

  
  



	5. Rings of Power, Rings for Peace

The weeks flew by in a golden haze of happiness. Celebrimbor and Annatar soon spent almost every waking hour in each other's company--they worked together in the forges, taught near to one another in the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, ate their meals while poring over diagrams, and walked the walls of Ost-in-Edhil talking merrily, their heads close together. Celebrimbor thought that he had never been so content. 

One day, several months after Annatar’s arrival, as the two companions talked over annealing methods late one night at the forge, Annatar shot Celebrimbor a curious look and asked,

“Tyelpe, do you make rings?”

Celebrimbor laughed. “Of course we do, Anna. We make all kinds of jewelry, you know that.”

Annatar shook his head. “No. I meant. . .do you imbue your rings with power?”

Celebrimbor raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Annatar smiled. “In my years of study, I have found that rings are the best wearable vessels for magic. It is possible, with the correct techniques, of course, to create rings that have an immense capacity for. . .doing good.”

Celebrimbor leaned his chin on his hands, his eyes intent. “Doing good? How?”

Annatar traced his finger along the edge of the table. “Well, theoretically, the bearer of the ring would have access to massive amounts of power and information. Their own abilities and skills would be increased. Warriors with rings would be mightier, buildings raised by a ring-wearer would never crumble, life could be restored to barren lands at the will of a keeper of a ring, riches in their lands would multiply. The possibilities are infinite, Tyelpe.” 

Celebrimbor frowned. “And if a ring were to fall into the hands of one who was  _ not _ invested in doing good? What then?”

“Well, they would be able to reverse all the things that I said, and more,” coolly replied Annatar. “I think the key would be simply to entrust rings only to those most committed to the greater good of Middle Earth. Like you, for example.”

Celebrimbor blushed and looked away. “If these rings are truly as great as you say, then I definitely think that I am not wise enough to wield one.”

Annatar reached one hand across the table and placed it over Celebrimbor’s, gently tapping his fingers. 

“Oh, come, come Tyelpe. You are too modest.  _ I _ think that you would be the perfect one to bear a ring of power.” He stroked the back of Celebrimbor’s hand, as if imagining a ring there. “But even if you choose not to forge one for yourself, we could still create them. Together.”

Celebrimbor finally looked up, his grey eyes alight. “You think we could?”

Annatar’s mouth turned up lazily. “Oh, I’m sure of it.” He paused, licking his lips, and continued softly. “So, my dearest Tyelpe, what is your answer? Will you join me in this greatest of ventures?”

Celebrimbor stared down at Annatar’s hand, still tenderly caressing his own. A tiny, niggling voice spoke up in the deepest recesses of his mind.  _ Gil-galad didn’t trust him. Your  _ **_friend_ ** _ warned you to stay away from him. Now he offers to make objects of such immense power that they could wreak havoc in Middle Earth, and you go along with him? Maybe Gil was right. Maybe he is a servant of the darkness _ , it said.  _ And what will you do if he is? Do you think that you’re strong enough to handle that? _

_ Annatar is  _ **_not_ ** _ a servant of Morgoth _ , Celebrimbor thought back at the voice.  _ He is my friend and I trust him. Gil-galad was unjust to him, but I will not be. In Ost-in-Edhil we welcome those who are different.  _

The voice did not reply, and Celebrimbor, pushing away any lingering doubts, looked up into Annatar’s attentive, smiling face, and nodded.

“I’ll do it. We’ll do it.”

Annatar stood up and walked around the table until he stood beside Celebrimbor. He pulled him to his feet and smiled down at him, still clasping his hand. His eyes were shining with excitement. 

“Tyelpe, we will make the greatest things Middle Earth has ever seen. We can finally bring peace, even to the very shores of the sea.”

Annatar bent his head, leaning his forehead against Celebrimbor’s and letting his hair fall about them. Celebrimbor could see him faintly glowing in the darkness, and could feel the heat of his skin, even through his robes. He could feel his heart racing. 

Annatar lightly rested his hands on Celebrimbor’s shoulders, still smiling. His lips brushed Celebrimbor’s face when he spoke.

“Tomorrow we can begin,” he whispered. “Think of it, Tyelpe. You and I will be the ones to bring peace to all of Middle Earth.  _ You _ , Tyelpe, are so much greater than your father, or even your grandfather. So much wiser. So much braver. So much  _ better _ .”

Celebrimbor’s breath caught in his throat, and he found that words would not come. A moment later, Annatar stood up, shaking his hair back. He tilted Celebrimbor’s chin up with one tapered finger, and smiled teasingly. Celebrimbor made an inarticulate little whimpering noise.

“Good night, Tyelpe,” Annatar said cheerfully, dropping his hands to his sides. “Sleep well, and dream of the days to come.”

Celebrimbor watched him go, the swish of his white robes extinguishing the one lamp. After he had gone, and even the slight sound of his footsteps had faded, Celebrimbor stood in the darkness for a long time, listening to the wild beating of his heart.

  
  



	6. Winter Nights

They began to work immediately, and the days passed in a whirl of feverish activity. There was the metal to choose; bright silver, heavy lead, bronze shining like flames. There were temperatures to determine, tools to gather, songs and enchantments to prepare. Often, they worked through the night, stopping only when dawn turned the sky soft grey. Winter came, weighing the branches of the holly trees down with snow. The nights were long, and the stars glittered like diamonds in the crisp air. Celebrimbor was grateful for the forge fires, and for Annatar’s glow during those frigid nights and icy days. 

One night in midwinter, when the world outside the window had been reduced to swirling snow, Celebrimbor sank down on the floor, leaning his head on his knees and blowing on his chilled hands. The fire had gone out. They were not forging that night, for their prototype earlier that day had been a disaster. Celebrimbor was tired, shivering, and horribly discouraged. Even unruffleable Annatar had been distant and snappish all evening. He lifted his head, though, when Celebrimbor groaned.

“Tyelpe, what is wrong?” His tone was gentler than before. 

Celebrimbor sighed. “I had expected the prototype to. . .not be an epic failure. It imploded, Anna! All our work, gone!”

Annatar rose from his chair and crouched beside Celebrimbor. His voice was soothing, warm. 

“We will succeed, Tyelpe, we simply did not today. We still have our theories. We have our skills. I will sing differently the next time, and it will be better. Think of all the good we will do when it is done!”

Celebrimbor rested his chin on his folded hands. The lamplight flickered over his face, illuminating the weariness there.

“I know, Annatar, I know.” He gave a deep sigh. “It was my fault. I will work harder.”

Annatar sat down beside him, so close that Celebrimbor could feel the heat of his body. 

“Tyelpe, it was  _ not _ your fault. Do not blame yourself. I simply attempted to place too much power into the ring.  _ I  _ caused it to dissolve. Not you.”

Celebrimbor did not reply. A tear trickled down his cheek, gleaming like molten gold in the flickering light. Annatar extended a finger and caught it as it trembled, on the brink of falling. 

“Tyelpe.” Annatar’s voice was soft. “Tyelpe, I do not think we should work more tonight. You need rest. Come, lie down.”

Celebrimbor allowed himself to be drawn down until his head rested on Annatar’s lap. Annatar was making soft, soothing noises, as an adult would to calm a frightened child. He felt Annatar’s hands working their way through the knots in his hair, wiping away the grime on his forehead. He hummed softly as he worked, the candlelight casting dancing shadows across his fair face, and Celebrimbor allowed himself to stare up at him. 

Gil-galad had not listened when Celebrimbor wrote again, telling him of Annatar’s wisdom, kindness, and regret. He had repeated his warnings with a kind of resignation, as if he had given up hope. Celebrimbor had assured him that Annatar had only improved things in Eregion, had only helped Celebrimbor, but still, Gil-galad refused to trust him.  _ At least _ , Celebrimbor thought with a savour of selfish joy,  _ Annatar came to me because of Gil’s fears. I am glad he did not stay in Lindon. What would I do without him? _

It was true, Celebrimbor could no longer imagine working without his friend by his side. Annatar knew so much, cared so passionately, threw himself into work with such zeal and joy. Yes, there were times when he said strange things, or when the glint of his eyes turned cold, but Celebrimbor put these down to his Maia-ness and nothing more. _ One can’t expect the same sort of things from one who has seen the Valar in all their glory and splendor _ , Celebrimbor told himself. 

Apparently finished with his detangling, Annatar turned his eyes to Celebrimbor’s face. His lips quirked when he noticed Celebrimbor staring. Celebrimbor flushed and looked away, focusing on the shadows leaping across the wall. He realized with a jerk that Annatar was speaking.

“Tyelpe, if you don’t mind, I think I will retire to my room for the rest of this night. I am tired, too.”

Celebrimbor sat up. “Of course. I am sorry.”

Annatar smiled pleasantly. “Oh, no apologies necessary. I enjoy all the time we spend together. Will you walk with me?”

Celebrimbor rose to his feet, following Annatar out of the door. The corridor was dark and quiet; the only sound was the snow whisking against the windows. They did not speak as they walked out of doors and crossed the slick courtyard to Celebrimbor’s home. 

Annatar bade Celebrimbor a cheerful goodnight, and disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Celebrimbor, to his surprise, felt a tiny thread of disappointment at this.  _ What, _ he thought to himself,  _ you thought Annatar would invite you in? He’s going to sleep, or whatever it is that Maiar do. And why would you want to be in his room anyways? You’ve seen it before, it’s your house after all. These late nights are making you giddy. Annatar was right, you need to rest.  _

But lying in bed, listening to the whistling of the wind in the branches of the hollies, he could not quite make himself believe that it was weariness or cold alone that made him miss the warmth of Annatar’s hands in his hair. 

  
  



	7. Sleepless

The first thaw came, and still they worked. The other smiths wrinkled their brows and the apprentices whispered to each other when they thought Celebrimbor wasn’t looking.

_ He looks so tired. I wonder what they’re working on. _

_ He spends all night in the forges, I heard. _

_ Annatar works like a machine. Do Maiar even need to sleep? _

_ Poor Celebrimbor. I hope he’s all right. _

Celebrimbor didn’t heed their worried looks or gossip. The prototypes were going better now, and Celebrimbor was sure they were close. Annatar never seemed to flag, and Celebrimbor worked tirelessly, if only to please Annatar, who seemed so wildly excited about the project. They still spent much of each night in the forges or Celebrimbor’s workroom; Celebrimbor had taken to sleeping there on a cot for the few hours he could snatch. He did not know if Annatar slept too, and he never asked. 

The days grew longer. They had no need for lamps until late at night, and often not at all, for the forge fires blazed brightly until the wee hours of the morning. The artisans shook their heads in concern and murmured behind their hands. 

One night in late spring, when the moon was just rising, Celebrimbor awakened with a jolt to find that he had slid part way out of his chair and was lying across his desk. Diagrams were scattered around him, but thankfully he had not upset the ink. With a groan, he pulled himself upright and began putting his desk in order again. He did not notice Annatar until he spoke.

“Tyelpe, do you not wish to continue?” His tone was distant. 

Celebrimbor straightened and turned towards him. Annatar’s back was to him, his face turned towards the window.

“No, Anna. I-I want to.” He gave a deep sigh. “I am just weary, that’s all.”

Annatar looked over his shoulder at Celebrimbor, still holding the stack of papers. His eyes glittered like jewels in the moonlight.

“We will finish it soon,” Annatar said softly. 

“Do you think so?” 

“Yes. Perhaps even tonight.”

Celebrimbor placed the papers carefully on his desk. “Will it be easier next time? Making a ring?” 

Annatar laughed softly. “Oh, yes. Much easier. I simply had not tested my theories, but now that I have, we will be able to make them smoothly in the future.”

Celebrimbor jerked his head towards the door. “Well then, I suppose we should get started.”

Annatar smiled slightly. “You know, Tyelpe, I have never met anyone quite like you. You work so hard, so passionately. It is beautiful to see.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “That’s why I would so like to make a ring for your hand, Tyelpe, my dearest. . .” He paused, there was tension in the silence. Something sparked in Celebrimbor’s chest. “Friend.”

Celebrimbor shook his head and moved towards the door. “Thank you, Annatar, but no. Not yet. Maybe sometime, but not now.”

In two strides, Annatar had crossed the room, coming to a stop a hairsbreadth from Celebrimbor’s right shoulder. He leaned close to Celebrimbor’s ear, so close that Celebrimbor could feel the brush of his lips when he spoke. 

“So modest,” he whispered. “You efface yourself, Tyelpe. Don’t you know how highly I esteem you?”

Celebrimbor could feel his face flushing. His tongue felt like a stone in his mouth. Annatar did not move from where he stood. 

Celebrimbor mustered his powers of speech enough to whisper hoarsely, 

“Er. . .thank you?” It came out like a question.

“Mm, yes. You should not diminish yourself so.” Annatar drew even closer. Celebrimbor felt rooted to the floor. He did not think he could have moved for anything in that breathless, suspended moment. The darkness hummed with possibilities.

As quickly as he had moved before, Annatar drew back. His tone was nonchalant, breezy.

“Oh, look at the time! We really had best get to the forges if we’re going to work tonight. Come on, Tyelpe!” He was halfway out the door. “I’m sure we can finish tonight,” he added cheerfully, already walking down the hall. 

Celebrimbor shook himself, as if waking from a dream. He exhaled slowly, ran one tingling hand through his hair, and then followed Annatar down the corridor and towards the forges.  _ There is work to be done, _ he chided himself.  _ Pull yourself together! _

That proved to be quite a challenge, and his fingers fumbled as he tied the strings of his apron and stoked the forge fires into a blaze. 

  
  



	8. Forevers

Celebrimbor’s world narrowed to the anvil, the flames, and Annatar’s voice. He chanted ceaselessly, his voice melodious as a running stream. Celebrimbor could not understand all the words, but they seemed to speak of growth and power; warmth and strength. Celebrimbor brought his hammer down again and again. Sweat dripped into his eyes and grime streaked his face, but he did not heed it.

The moon sailed across the sky. Hours passed, and Annatar’s song did not waver, and Celebrimbor’s arms did not tire. The very air seemed to spark with power. The light of the fire bathed everything in a red glow. Annatar’s eyes seemed to blaze themselves, devoid of their usual tranquil blue. He shone bright as a living flame among the shadows where he stood, glowing with the intensity of his task. 

Celebrimbor’s every nerve was focused on the ring before him. The firelight flickered across his taut muscles, his firmly set mouth, his hair, tumbling down over his shoulders. Later, many painters would seek to capture it, the scene in the forges of Ost-in-Edhil that night, but none of them, not even the most skillful, came close to showing it as it truly was. 

As the sun began to throw its first rays over the tops of the hollies, and the sky began to fade to a greyish pink, Annatar’s song ceased. As soon as the last notes fell from his lips and faded, Celebrimbor snatched up the ring in his tongs, and dropped it with a soft hiss into the bowl of water that sat at his left hand. Steam rose from the water’s surface. 

There was a look of earnest hope in Celebrimbor’s grey eyes. His gloved hands clasped the tongs to his chest. Annatar had drawn closer, his expression one of wild desire, of anticipated triumph. His eyes gleamed hungrily, and seemed to glow gold for a moment before fading back to blue. 

Gingerly, Celebrimbor lifted the cooled ring out of the bowl, shook off one glove, and dropped the ring into his hand. It seemed to pulse against his skin. 

Annatar stepped out from behind him, his lips parted in excitement. He touched the ring with one finger, bent close to it, seeming to listen for something. When he stood up, he was smiling, exultant. 

“It is done.” 

Celebrimbor couldn’t suppress the laugh-sigh that rushed out of him. “You’re. . .you’re sure? We did it?”

Annatar nodded. “I am sure. This one is complete.”

Celebrimbor grinned. All traces of weariness had vanished from his face. His cheeks were flushed with the wild joy that comes with creation.

Before he could speak, Annatar scooped up the ring and held it out.

“Tyelpe, put it on.”

Celebrimbor shook his head. “Anna, it’s not for me. I’ve already told you this.”

Annatar smiled coaxingly. “Please? Just try it. For a minute. Just a minute.”

Celebrimbor looked up at Annatar’s eager, hopeful face and then down at the ring. It was harmless enough. After all, it would only be for a moment. And Annatar obviously wanted him to. He held out his hand.

“Fine.”

Annatar slipped the ring on to Celebrimbor’s finger. It was warm to the touch, like a living thing. Celebrimbor stared down at it.

“Er. . .what should I do with it?”

Annatar shrugged. “It would have to bond with you as its owner before you could do many things. And since you don’t want to claim it. . .” He shot Celebrimbor a look. “Well, you can still feel its power, can’t you?”

“Yes,” Celebrimbor answered quickly. “Of course I can.”

Annatar smiled. “And this is only a lesser ring. Imagine what could be accomplished with one of greater potency!” He stared at the slender gold band. 

Celebrimbor slipped the ring off and handed it back to Annatar. 

“Here. You should keep that one. You were the one who really made it.”

Annatar beamed at Celebrimbor, turning the ring over and over in his hand. 

“No, my friend. It was both of us.” He shook his head in gentle reproach. “Do not diminish yourself, Tyelpe.” 

Celebrimbor flushed and looked away, toying with his remaining glove. Annatar watched him, a look of faint amusement on his face. 

“Tyelpe, would you walk with me up to the walls? I wish to see the sunrise. We did not have them in Aman, and I still marvel at them. But of course, if you wish to rest now, I would not keep you.”

Celebrimbor smiled happily. “Oh! That’s a perfect idea. I’m too joyful to sleep anyways.”

They walked together through the brightening streets of Ost-in-Edhil. Few people were about, but soon the streets would be filled with artisans going to their respective halls, children playing, and newcomers gawking at the beautiful buildings. Celebrimbor half skipped, half ran all the way to the eastern wall. They climbed the winding steps until they stood at the top, looking out over the surrounding landscape. The forests, bright year ‘round with holly, the river shining like a band of silver in the golden light. It was warm, and a soft breeze tousled Celebrimbor’s hair and made Annatar’s robes swirl like the wings of a bird.

They sat down, legs dangling over the parapet. Annatar took out the ring again and ran his thumb absentmindedly over its surface. Celebrimbor smiled sweetly up at him.

“I’m so lucky you came here, Annatar,” he said, a little shyly. “Are you continuing on, or will you stay?”

Annatar looked over at him. “Would you like me to remain?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Celebrimbor replied earnestly.

Annatar’s lips curled teasingly. There was an undercurrent of laughter in his voice when he spoke again. “You won’t get tired of me after a while? I won’t bore you?”

Celebrimbor shook his head. “Anna, you could stay forever and I would never get tired of you.”

Annatar laughed outright. “You’re so darling, Tyelpe. How could I leave someone like you?”

Celebrimbor blushed and suddenly became very absorbed in smoothing out the wrinkles in his sleeves. 

“Tyelpe.” Annatar tapped his shoulder. “Tyelpe, the birdsong is not so loud that you can’t hear me.”

Celebrimbor lifted his head again. “My sleeves are a mess,” he said lamely. 

Annatar’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, forget about your sleeves. There are more important things.” 

“Do you mean my hair? It’s all snarled up, I don’t think I’ve touched a comb for days.”

Annatar rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean your hair, you goose.”

Celebrimbor rubbed a hand helplessly across his forehead. “Oh, it’s the smudges, isn’t it? I don’t know how cinders get up there, but somehow--”

But the rest of that sentence is lost to history, because Annatar chose that moment to lean forwards and press his lips against Celebrimbor’s, and all thoughts of sleeves, snarls, or smudges flew out of Celebrimbor’s mind for the moment, displaced by pleasanter things. 

After a few moments, Annatar pulled away and regarded Celebrimbor (who was still blushing furiously) with sparkling eyes.

“You know, Tyelpe, I don’t think I shall be bored either,” he said drily. 

Celebrimbor smiled and leaned his head on Annatar’s shoulder, lacing their fingers together. “So it’s you and me forever, then?”

Annatar’s lips curled as he looked down at Celebrimbor’s upturned face. 

“Until the very end, Tyelpe. Until the very end.” 

The sun rose higher, casting its buttery light over the two figures on the wall. The city was waking beneath them, and the birds were singing, and the spring air felt full of possibilities. Celebrimbor smiled and curled closer to Annatar. The light played on the golden ring lying in his palm, and on his pale hair. 

Celebrimbor gave a little sigh of happiness. Yes, all was as it should be. The future seemed to stretch endlessly before him, shining and full of opportunity. 

~ ~ ~

Later, the tellers of tales would call him naïf. 

For trusting.

For loving.

For assuming that forever was a thing that could be promised.

For not looking up on that glorious morning and seeing the look of mocking triumph on the face of the one he loved so ardently, and yet so ruinously. 

But, I ask you, how could he have known?

Innocence, while it lasts, is a precious and perilous thing. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work in a what I plan to be a trilogy, so stay tuned for more if you enjoyed this!  
> As always, many thanks to my dear friend and first reader for their unending support (if you see this, know that you're amazing and I couldn't have done it without you). And also, a huge thank-you and gentle hug to everyone who read this; you lovelies make writing so much fun.


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